Ties That Bind
by laynee
Summary: The demon that messed with Sam's head was just the start of the problems to come. SIlence and secrets never saved anyone. Hurt/sick/damaged Sam. Some language and such. ended, maybe. possible chapters added later. idk. maybe alternate ending ?
1. Mind Games

I don't own Supernatural or anything that has to deal with it. So please don't sue me because I'm a poor college kid with loans up to my ears.

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Sam paused at the top of the basement stairs. The darkness looked back at him, empty and silent. The old farmhouse creaked around him and he tensed. He flipped open his phone and called Dean. No answer. The theory of 'no news is good news' never applied in Sam or Dean's lives.

"Dean?"

He was positive that Dean had gone down there and if any knowledge could be gained from the silence in the rest of the house, he was positive that the supernatural disturbance was also in the basement.

He pulled the pistol from the back of his jeans, checked that it was filled with rock salt, and stepped into the darkness. Cobwebs brushed across his face like a ghostly touch. He took slow, even breaths to make sure that his own breathing didn't cover any important sounds. He wanted to call out to Dean again, but his intuition told him not to.

At the bottom of the stairs, Sam saw a faint light from under a door. He paused with his hand on the knob. His breath was held in his lungs as he listened. He thought he heard a dull thump, maybe a gasp. Maybe it was all in his head, his nerves getting the best of him. Sam pushed open the door.

The creature had Dean against the limestone wall by his throat. Sam couldn't figure out what exactly it was. Some sort of Wolman meets demon meets nuclear radiation, as far as he could tell. Whatever it was, it noticed Sam as he came into the room.

Without hesitation Sam shot the thing. It fell back against the wall, Dean slumped to the floor and Sam flipped open the book. He read the standard banishing command and watched the thing smoke and fade. After the last word echoed in the silent room, Sam rushed to Dean's side. He felt for a pulse and breath, Dean had both, though weakly.

Sam touched Dean's shoulder. "Dean?"

Dean's eyes opened. They were the black of the demon possessed. Sam's mouth went dry and he froze.

Dean smiled like he knew something that Sam never would. "So glad you found me." He said in a voice that was both Dean's and not Dean's.

"Let him go." Sam's eyes hardened.

"I don't think so." Dean stood and paced around the room.

Sam stood out of defense. He kept his eyes on Dean and his finger on the trigger of the gun.

"Are you going to shoot me?" Dean smiled broader. "Sammy?"

It was that one word that made Sam's blood run cold. Dean called Sam 'Sammy' more often than Sam would like, but it had always been said out of concern, out of the thing that the Winchesters never spoke of, out of love. When demon Dean said it, the name meant nothing. It was taunting, hard and used to hit Sam where he was most vulnerable.

Sam's brain ran through every case where they sent a demon back, every time where the poor soul who had become taken had been lost in the exorcism. The statistics of saving Dean from the demon's grasp were small. The fact that the demon seemed to know that made the numbers even smaller.

Sam took a slow breath and started reciting the words. He hoped against the odds that it would work, he prayed to a God that he wasn't sure was there as he spoke. The smile fell from Dean's face and his eyes lost the amused glow from a second ago.

"Send me away, and I'll take him."

The words caught in Sam's throat.

_Demons lie, Sammy._ Those were the only words that Sam could remember Dean saying. Sam took another breath and continued. He found that if he looked at Dean's shoulder, then he didn't have to burn the image of those demon possessed eyes into his brain.

Suddenly there was a hand at Sam's throat and his head struck the limestone wall. Black spots danced in front of his eyes for a few seconds before he realized he couldn't get a breath. He grabbed Dean's wrist and tried to pry his brother from his throat.

"Oh, Sammy. Never did get it, did you? Never were quick enough, smart enough, brave enough."

Sam tried not to listen, not to believe, but he couldn't help it. His eyes went to Dean's and he got lost.

"Couldn't save your mom, your dad, Jess. Couldn't even save me, and after all the times I've saved you."

"You never saved me." Sam gasped. "Dean did, and you're not him."

He didn't know where he was aiming, he just knew that if there was any chance to save Dean, he had to do it. Sam raised the gun in his right hand and shot. He dropped to the cold, cement floor and took long breaths of cool air.

Dean staggered back, red blooming on his shirtfront. His face was blank with surprise. Sam looked up at his brother. Sam finished the banishing, he forced himself to ignore the blood that ran from his brother.

The demon flew from Dean and he crumpled to the floor. Sam was at his side in a second.

"Dean?" His throat constricted in fear. "I'm sorry, Dean."

His eyes opened and he looked up at Sam. "Sorry." His eyes closed again.

"For what?" Sam touched Dean's shoulder. "Dean?"

With shaking hands, Sam felt for a pulse. Everything was still under Sam's fingers. Out of desperation, Sam started chest compressions even though he knew it was pointless. Minutes passed and Sam still tried.

Dean's skin was cold under Sam's fingers as he felt for a pulse again. Sam yelled out of self-hatred, despair, shame. Something cold and heavy settled in his chest as he looked at Dean's lifeless form on the floor. The blood was on Sam's hands, his jeans, the floor. It was everywhere.

"There shouldn't have been a bullet." Sam whispered.

He pulled the chamber of the gun open and saw three empty chambers. The remaining two held rock salt and then as if to mock him, the third, the one next to be shot contained a bullet. The gun fell from his shaking hands and he closed his eyes as though to block out the horrible image.

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Sam was slumped in a corner of the basement. His eyes were vacant and wide with terror. Dean burst into the room, guns drawn and determination etched into the hard lines of his face.

The demon had Sam at her will and he was almost gone.

"Not this time, Bitch." Dean spat.

Dean recited the words with hatred and force. The smile on the demon's face fell as she realized what he was doing.

She looked back at Sam, he paled further and his shaking was more obvious. Suddenly she crumpled and was banished. Sam shuddered, his eyes closed and he slumped further down the wall.

Dean flew to Sam's side. "Sammy? Sam, you gotta wake up."

Sam's eyes opened slowly. He looked at Dean, the confusion in his eyes mingling with the fear. He shrank back from Dean slightly.

Dean gripped his arm. "Hey, Sammy. You're all right."

Sam blinked and the fear was gone. "Dean?"

"Yeah. Let's get out of this shit hole." Dean pulled Sam to his feet. "You all right?"

Sam ran his hand through his hair and nodded. He kept glancing over at Dean, making sure it was really him.

The ride back to the motel was silent. Sam stared out the window with his eyes glazed.

Dean glanced over at him. "You okay?"

Sam didn't answer. His mind was replaying the things the demon forced him to see. He could still feel the kickback of the gun in the tension of his shoulder, the drying blood on his hands.

"Sam?"

Sam turned away from the oncoming night. "What?"

"Just makin sure you were still with me."

Sam's jaw clenched as Dean said that. Dean had an idea that the demon messed with his brother, he just didn't know how much and knew that Sam wouldn't venture the information easily.

They pulled up in front of their door and got out of the car. Sam unlocked the door and walked over to his bed. He sat down on the edge and braced his elbows on his knees. Dean dropped his jacket on the floor and flopped down on his own bed. He grabbed the remote off the floor and turned on the television. He looked over at Sam and wished that just once, he could fix all that went on in his head.


	2. So It Begins

Still don't sue me and all that. Thanks for the reviews and such. Don't know how much time I'll have to work on this, but I'll try and update as often as possible.

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Sam didn't want to sleep. He knew what waited for him in his dreams and he wasn't ready to face that again.

Dean snored slightly in the next bed and Sam envied his dreamless sleep. His eyes burned with exhaustion and his body ached. The neon numbers of the clock read just after three. His only consolation was watching Dean's chest rise and fall with his deep, even breaths.

_I didn't kill him._ He told himself in the dark room. _I never would._

He closed his eyes just for a moment, but the moment was too long and soon he was asleep. As predicted, he relived the moment of shooting Dean, of letting him die on the cold floor in the basement of the farmhouse.

Sam woke with his sheets tangled around him. His shirt stuck to his back and was soaked with sweat. Shakily, he sat up and looked over at Dean. He resisted the urge to wake his brother just to prove that he was still alive. He relaxed as Dean turned over in his sleep and shoved a pillow to the floor.

Quietly, Sam slipped out of bed and walked into the small bathroom. He closed the door and turned on the light. His pale reflection squinted back at him. He turned on the water and cupped his hands under the cold flow. He brought the water to his lips and took a few breaths to calm his racing heart.

"Nothing happened." He whispered to his reflection. "It wasn't real."

It took a few more minutes before the shaking stopped. Sam turned out the light and returned to bed. He didn't sleep, his fear was stronger than his exhaustion, but he knew that would soon change and he dreaded the moment.

Sam was in the shower when Dean woke a little after seven. The water stopped and Sam emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later. Despite being clean, freshly shaven and wearing clothes that had yet to be stained with dirt or blood, he looked fresh from a fight, weary. Sam sat heavily on the edge of the bed and shoved things into his bag.

"Sam."

He looked up at his brother.

"You all right?"

For a second it looked like Sam was going to say no. "While you're in the shower I'm going to go out and have 'I'm fine' tattooed across my forehead. Save you the trouble." He smiled and returned to packing.

Dean stood and shook his head slightly. "If you do, make sure to pick up an 'I'm with stupid' shirt for me." He had to admit that it was good to see Sam smile, even if it was a little forced.

He grabbed a quick shower and joined Sam in loading up the car. The motel was in the rear-view-mirror by eight.

Dean found a station on the radio he liked and turned it up. Sam hoped the volume would keep him awake.

"What'd the demon do to you, Sam?"

The question caught him off guard and he turned away from the window. "What do you mean?"

Dean turned down the volume a little. "What do you think I mean, genius?"

"Nothing." Sam turned back to the window.

Dean glanced over at his brother. "You were out when I got to you. She had something on you."

"You don't need to worry about it."

Dean let it drop and turned the music back up. Sam had almost convinced himself that he was nearly fine. He knew that Dean was all right, despite what his dreams decided. He knew that he'd never have to shoot Dean. Sam was weary from the few hours of sleep he got the night before and the fight before that. He'd have to sleep sometime, hopefully when he was too tired to dream.

Dean pulled into a gas station to refuel and to get something for lunch. Sam grabbed a couple sandwiches and chips for the both of them and returned to the car. Dean was leaning against the driver's side door on the phone. After a few moments he climbed in and tossed his phone in the cup holder.

"What's up?" Sam tossed a sandwich to his brother.

"Bobby said there's a job for us a few hours from here."

"Few hours according to the general public, or a few hours according to us?" Sam asked with a smirk.

"We should get there by dark." Dean started the car.

"What sort of job?"

Dean shrugged. "He thought it was something lurking around a small town, most likely a spirit of some sort. Nothing big, but starting to be a problem."

Sam leaned back against the seat. "How'd Bobby know?"

"Said it was like four hours from him. He had another job, asked if we could be in the area. This isn't clashing with your social plans, is it?"

Sam rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway. "Yeah, I think I can squeeze it in."

They drove hard through the day and stopped only when they had to. Sam nodded off a few times, but never for very long. Dean knew there was still something he was trying to work out from the night before, but he just let him go. Sam would come clean if he had to.

They pulled into the motel a few hours after sunset. The pain on the door was cracked a little, but overall it wasn't the worst place they had stayed in. Dean got out of the car and stretched, a little stiff from being in the car for so long. Sam got out and stood next to the car. Without words, they both went to the trunk and grabbed bags.

Sam flopped down on one of the stiff beds and looked up at the water stained ceiling. Dean sat on the edge of the other bed for a few moments.

"You want to walk down to that diner and grab something to eat?" Sam asked.

"Sure." If Sam wanted to eat, then he couldn't be that bad off.

They grabbed jackets and wallets on their way out. The evening air was cool and slightly damp. It would most likely rain later in the night.

The diner was a few blocks away, just a standard, side of the road affair that attracted truckers and people passing through. It might have been nice once when it was newly opened, or maybe it had always had the slight look of being a little neglected.

They took a booth near the back and flipped through the menu. Mostly fries, burgers and anything else that could be cooked on a griddle. Sam wasn't very hungry, but if he wanted to continue to tell Dean he was fine, then he had better eat something.

Sam ate most of what he ordered, though he wasn't hungry at all. Dean didn't notice. He was too busy with his own plate and eyed the waitresses as they walked by. They paid the pill, tipped the waitress, she gave Dean her number and walked back to the motel.

The beds, as hard as they were, were welcome to both Dean and Sam. They were exhausted from the driving, from the fight the night before, from the unspoken things between them. They kicked their shoes off and stretched out on the beds.

"I could sleep for a week." Dean sighed.

A cold shiver ran down Sam's spine. "Yeah."

After they organized the bags, a few hours of made for television movies and the cell phones reset for six thirty, Sam and Dean climbed under the covers and turned out the light.

Sam tried to fight the desire to sleep, he knew he had to at some point, but hopefully that time wasn't soon. Dean was out in minutes. Sam shifted and fell asleep without meaning to.

He found himself back in the damp basement, demon Dean stood over him and smiled. Sam struggled against Dean's inhuman strength as he held Sam against the limestone walls. Sam felt the rock dig into his shoulders and back.

"Dean, please." Sam would try anything to save them both.

"Oh, Sammy." He smiled. "So eager to save us all and no idea how."

Dean's hand went to Sam's throat. Sam didn't know how the gun suddenly ended up in his hand. He didn't pull the trigger, but it still went off. Dean staggered back, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Didn't know you had it in you." Dean gasped.

Sam was frozen in horror. He couldn't go to Dean as he collapsed to the unforgiving floor. The blood pooled under his body.

"Sam." Dean's voice was soft. "You killed me, Sam."

Sam's mouth went dry as Dean's eyes closed and his chest didn't rise with the next breath.

Sam woke with a start. His breath was fast and shallow. Sweat ran down his back and soaked his hair. The sheets were tangled around his legs. He shivered and tried to shake the images of the dream from his head.

"Sam?" Dean sat up on one elbow and turned on the light.

Sam didn't move.

Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Sam, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." Sam whispered.

"Right, and I'm President of the United States."

Sam looked over at his brother. His heart still pounded and his stomach twisted from the fear of the dream. He climbed out of bed and walked into the bathroom without a word. Dean wanted to follow, but knew that Sam needed some time.

Sam stood with his hands braced on the edge of the sink. He still felt shaky and weak, like he could pass out any time. He looked up and saw Dean's reflection in the mirror. He turned and leaned against the sink.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on the doorframe. "What's going on in your head?"

Sam shrugged a little and looked at the floor.

"Sammy."

He had to look up. Dean's voice was so sincere, so concerned, it was a plea.


	3. Fight or Flight

Still don't sue me and all that. Thanks for the reviews and such. So, the posting statement is sort of wrong since I posted two in one day. After Tuesday, if it's not finished, then there may be some time between chapters.

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Sam sighed and tried to smile. "It's okay, really."

"Oh yeah?"

Sam was too tired to keep up the lies. "It's stupid."

"Yeah, not sleeping's real stupid." Dean shrugged. "What'd she do to you?"

Sam's voice was low, Dean almost couldn't hear him. "I shot you, in the basement. I killed you."

Dean stepped forward and held Sam's shoulder. "Demons will make you think and see a lot of things that aren't true, they lie."

Sam nodded and took a slow breath.

"It wasn't true and it never will be." Dean squeezed Sam's shoulder. "Okay?"

Sam nodded. He hated that Dean saw him when he was weak, hated that he was weak. "Give me a few minutes?"

Dean turned and went back into the room. Sam closed the door and slid down the wall to the stained tile. He drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around. He didn't know how long he sat there.

Dean knocked softly on the door. "Hey, Sammy. We got a job tomorrow, so you better get some sleep."

Sam pushed himself up off the floor and turned on the water. He carried a few handfuls to his face and looked at his reflection in the mirror.

_It wasn't true and it never will be._ Dean was so sure when he said it, so confidant. The words echoed in Sam's head. Finally he left and returned to the room. The light was out and Dean was pretending to be asleep.

Sam pulled the covers over himself to try and shake the chill. He fell asleep, he didn't even try to fight it.

The cell phone alarms went off much to soon for them. Dean rolled over buried his head in the pillow. Sam sat up and climbed out of bed. He grabbed a quick shower and let the hot water wash away everything from last night.

Dean pounded on the door. "Sammy. If you used all the hot water, I'll leave you here."

Sam smiled. Everything was back to normal, or as normal as Sam and Dean ever were. He climbed out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He stepped out of the bathroom and Dean passed him on the way in.

By the time Dean emerged, Sam had dressed and packed up their things. Dean threw his towel at Sam.

"Jerk." Sam muttered under his breath.

Dean shrugged and stepped into his boots. "Ready?"

Sam and Dean were once again on the road. Dean read the directions that Bobby gave him off a piece of paper. After forty minutes, they pulled up in front of what once was an antique store. The sign had been worn off and only the 'A' and the 'QU' was left. A few of the windows were broken out and a door had been kicked in.

Dean climbed out of the car. "Let's go."

The air was icy and wind bit through their jackets. The air smelled of snow. The rain from the night before froze on the grass and cracked under their feet as they walked towards the building. Their breath rose in clouds in front of their faces.

Dean walked through the kicked in door. "If it gets any colder, my balls are going to freeze off."

"No loss to you then." Sam replied.

Dean turned and hit him. Sam smiled despite the attack.

Their hands were icy around the guns they held and they repressed shivers that ran down their spines. The wind whistled and howled through the forgotten building.

"Bobby said the guy who ran this place was nuts. Bobby thinks he might be buried out back, or in the basement." Dean turned back to Sam and smiled.

"I'll go out back and look." Sam stated.

"I was hoping you'd say that. It's warmer in here." Dean kicked aside a broken chair. "Call if you need me."

"Same to you." Sam flipped the collar of his jacket up.

He walked through the overgrown grass. It tangled around his legs and pulled his boots. He stumbled and caught his balance. Snow started to fall. Sam brushed the flakes from his hair and walked towards a pile of rocks. He pulled a few rocks aside, his fingers ached with the cold.

After a solid half hour of work of clearing rocks, he found an arm bone. Sam smiled, rubbed his hands together to try and warm them and moved aside a few more rocks. It took nearly an hour to clear enough of the rocks away for a salt and burn. Sam pulled a container of salt from a pocket and emptied it over the skeleton.

He pulled a container of lighter fluid from another pocket and covered the bones. He took a book of matches and lit a few. As he was about to drop them the spirit materialized in front of him.

"Shit." Sam breathed.

The spirit walked towards Sam. He raised the gun and prepared to shoot if needed. The sight of the gun in his hand chilled his blood more effectively than the icy wind and snow. All the sudden, he knew that he couldn't shoot it, not when the images of the dream kept flashing through his mind. In Sam's eyes, the spirit changed into Dean and then back again.

The spirit forced Sam to his knees as it sensed his hesitation. Sam felt his breath catch in his lungs, like trying to breath through a pillow. He fell on his hands and knees to the icy ground, an inch of snow already coated the grass. The book of matches lay a few inches from his hand. He tried to reach for it. Pain shot through his temple and the images of the dream mixed with darkness in Sam's vision. He tried again for the matches, he had to get rid of this thing.

Sam forced all his willpower into reaching the matches. "I will." He gasped.

The spirit smiled. "I have your will."

Sam looked up into his hollow eyes just as his fingers grasped the matchbook. The pain sharpened in his head and he couldn't see for a moment. His fingers were numb in the snow and he shivered from the icy wind that cut through his jacket and stung his cheeks.

Dean cleared the building without finding anything. It had been a few hours since he and Sam had split up. He didn't realize it until he looked down at his watch. He dialed Sam's number on the phone, no answer. Dean pulled his gun from his waistband and ran outside. It was already starting to get dark due to the heavy clouds and snow. The temperature had dropped more and Dean shivered a little. He thought fondly of the heat back at the hotel room and in the car.

He caught the faint smell of smoke over the wind. He ran around to the back of the building. There was no sign of Sam, but the bones of the spirit were barely smoking from the burning. For them to be that burned down, the fire would have had to been at least an hour ago. The panic calmed some as Dean saw that the spirit was banished.

"Sam?" Dean glanced around, his voice echoed in the silence.

Dean called again and Sam still didn't answer the phone.

He started back to the car to see if Sam just went back when he saw something dark lying in the snow a few yards away.


	4. Fire and Ice

Still don't sue me and all that. Thanks for the reviews and such. So, the posting statement is sort of wrong since I posted two in one day. After Tuesday, if it's not finished, then there may be some time between chapters.

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Somehow, before Dean even started running towards it, he knew it was Sam. He knelt at his brother's side, the snow soaking the knees of Dean's jeans. He touched Sam's shoulder and rolled him over.

Sam's face was pale and his lips were slightly blue tinted. He was cold, it seeped from him like it seeped from the ground.

"Sam? Sammy." Dean shook his brother.

Slowly, Sam's eyes opened blearily. As soon as he woke, he started shivering. His breath and heartbeat were fast.

Dean pulled Sam up by his coat. Sam's legs were weak under him and Dean had to drag him back to the car. Sam was out of it. His limbs were stiff and heavy from the cold. Dean brought him to the car and helped him into the passenger side. Sam half passed out again in the car. Dean ran to the other side and jumped in.

He started the car and cranked the heat. Sam shook from cold in the passenger seat. His eyes were closed.

"Sam." Dean grabbed his arm. "Sam, you got to stay with me."

Sam's eyes opened again and he slumped against the window. He wished he would stop shivering, he was tired and his muscles ached from the effort to stay warm. Dean slipped off his jacket and placed it over his brother.

"I got the spirit." Sam stammered.

"And decided to take a little nap in the snow." He impatiently hit the dash for heat.

Sam shrugged weakly.

Dean couldn't tell if Sam's words were actually slurred or if they only sounded that way because of his shivering. Dean tore out of the drive and back onto the road. He pointed the car away from the town and headed down the empty, snow covered road. Sam kept trying to slip back into sleep.

"Sam." Dean loudly said. He looked over at his brother. "Sammy."

Sam forced his eyes open. His shivering had slowed some, but not because he was warming up. His body was growing too tired to keep generating heat. Dean saw the paleness of Sam's face, how his lips still looked blue.

The snow pelted the car and covered everything in smooth white.

"Where are we going?" His words slurred a little more.

"Bobby's."

Sam nodded, too tired and cold to try and figure out why. Sam fought to stay awake, he knew it was important somehow.

Dean pushed up his sleeves as the heat poured from the vents. He wouldn't turn it down until he knew Sam was going to be all right. The four-hour drive to Bobby's seemed longer, even though Dean shaved off forty-five minutes by dangerously speeding on the snowy roads.

Sam was exhausted by the time they pulled into Bobby's driveway. His shivering had slowed only because he was too weak to keep it going. Dean left the car on and called Bobby on his cell.

Bobby came out of the house just as Dean pressed send for the call. Dean turned off the car and jumped out.

"What happened?" Bobby looked at Sam asleep in the car.

Dean could hardly keep his panic under control. "He finished off the spirit, but I found him unconscious in the snow. He got real cold."

Bobby and Dean pulled Sam inside. They brought him to the guest room and placed him on the bed. He was uncoordinated and half conscious.

Dean pulled off Sam's damp jacket and traded his jeans for sweatpants. It was all Sam could do to keep sitting and awake. Bobby ran from the room to get as many blankets as he owned. Dean leaned his brother back on the bed and covered him with the two blankets that were there.

Bobby returned with an armful of blankets and sleeping bags. He and Dean piled them on Sam to try and warm him up.

"How long has he been like this?" Bobby asked as he took Sam's temperature.

"Since I found him, but he kept falling asleep more in the last two hours." Dean didn't take his eyes off Sam as he shivered slightly. "What's his temp at?"

"91." Bobby left the room again.

Dean didn't know how long Bobby was gone, just as long as Sam kept breathing. Bobby returned with a mug of something that steamed.

"Sit him up."

Dean lifted Sam's shoulders and sat behind him. Sam woke slightly. Bobby tipped some of the hot tea into Sam's mouth. He went slow, and after fifteen minutes it was gone. Dean eased Sam back down and tucked the blankets around him.

"Now, we wait." Bobby said and pulled a chair over for himself and for Dean.

Dean sat down and rested his elbows on his knees.

Bobby looked over at him. "What happened?"

Dean shrugged. "We split up, Sam went outside. I found him lying in the snow with the bones burned."

"He can usually take care of himself." Bobby wasn't blaming Dean, he was just saying what was true.

Dean nodded. "I know."

"What about before that?"

He shrugged again. "I guess the last job sort of messed him up."

"What do you mean?"

"Demon got to him. He said it made him think he shot and killed me."

Bobby nodded slightly as he processed what Dean said. He knew it was the condensed version and it was also most likely the version that Sam gave Dean.

Dean glanced back at Bobby. "If he wasn't fit, I never would have let him go out there."

"I know that, Dean, but Sam's always gone his own way."

Dean had to agree. Ever since Dean could remember, Sam's done his own thing. Usually it fit in enough with what Dean and John were doing, but it was always his own. It made him stand out, in all the good ways and all the bad.

Dean and Bobby stayed at Sam's bedside through the night, there wasn't much conversation. Every half hour one of them would check Sam's temperature. For the first couple of hours there was no change. After that, his body temperature went up one degree every hour. A few more times, Bobby tipped warm tea into Sam to warm him from the inside. Towards morning, Sam's breathing eased, the blue faded from his lips and his face got a little color back. His hands and feet remained icy, but he was improving.

Bobby rested a hand on Dean's shoulder and he started awake. "Go on and catch a few hours. I'll stay with him."

Dean shook his head. "No, I'm all right."

"Son, you can't help him if you can't stand yourself." Bobby stated. "He's out of the woods. Go on and get some sleep."

"I'm okay here."

"I'm not asking you, Dean."

Dean looked over at Bobby and saw a flash John's command and concern in his eyes. He nodded and stood. Dean looked back at Sam for a few moments before he left the room. Bobby leaned back in the chair and watched Sam. He stirred a little, the first movement on his own since Dean and Bobby dragged him inside.

Bobby pulled the chair forward and though briefly of getting Dean before he remembered the dark circles under Dean's eyes and the sleep deprived pallor to his face. Bobby didn't want to wake Sam before he was ready, so he just sat quietly and waited.


	5. Confession

Still don't sue me and all that. Thanks for the reviews and such. I didn't know where this was going for a while…and still sort of don't. Not sure where the end is. I have an idea that I want to do something else…Sam and Dean came off pretty easy if this is nearing the end. Easy is something that doesn't happen, so that leads me to think that something else should happen. Any help would be appreciated, thanks.

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Sam was somewhere dark and cold. In nearing consciousness, he was aware of something heavy holding him down. His first thought was to fight, but he didn't have the strength and he couldn't wake up enough to do something about it. His arms and legs felt heavy and cold, like they were filled with ice.

Bobby saw him stir and move a little under the layers of blankets. He folded back a few layers as Sam moved more.

"Sam? You gonna come back to us?" Bobby muttered. "I know your brother'd be grateful."

Sam struggled against the weight on his arms and chest. His breath came a little quicker as the signal to panic reached his brain.

"…no, let me go…" He tried to free his arms from the imagined grasp.

Bobby rested a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Easy, just take it easy, Sam."

Sam's eyes flew open, the panic and fear evident in his dark gaze. He fought against Bobby's grip. He didn't recognize the man as the trusted family friend he was.

"Sam. You're gonna hurt yourself. Calm down."

Slowly Sam calmed down enough to see that it was Bobby at his side, though he didn't know why. The information that it was Bobby and not Dean keeping the bedside vigil could only mean that something had happened to Dean.

"Where's Dean?" Sam tried to sit up, but he was too weak. "What happened to him, where is he?"

Bobby smiled. "He's asleep, down the hall. Stayed up all night with you."

"Why?" A shiver ran through Sam, he couldn't get warm. "What happened?"

"What do you recall?"

Sam moved himself up on the pillows some. "Looking for the spirit at that antiques store. Dean took the building and I went outside. Found the bones under some rocks." He shrugged. "I remember it was cold."

Bobby poured a mug of hot water from a thermos and steeped a bag of tea in it. "You burned the bones, but something must of got to you and Dean said he found you passed out in the snow. Said you were there for a while." He noticed how Sam's face paled as the events were retold. "Anything to add?"

Sam didn't answer other than lowering his gaze from Bobby's.

"Are your hands still enough to hold this?"

Sam nodded. Bobby handed him the mug. Sam's hands shook, but not so much that he couldn't take a few slow sips.

"Drink it all." Bobby stood. "I'll let Dean know you're awake."

Bobby walked out of the room. Sam kept drinking the tea and hoped that it would warm the chills from him. Dean appeared in the doorway. His shirt was wrinkled from sleep and he looked half awake at best. A half smile appeared on Dean's face when he saw his little brother awake.

He took Bobby's chair and leaned forward. "Tried to cut out on me?"

Sam set the mug on the table. "As hard as I try, I can't get rid of you." He smiled a little.

"Well, don't try too hard."

"Seriously?" Sam lifted an eyebrow. "I think you're verging on a moment here. You need a hug?"

"Shove it, ass hole." Dean couldn't help but smirk.

Despite being unconscious for most of the past twelve hours, Sam was getting tired. Dean knew that, but he wasn't quite ready to let Sam go yet. He needed some answers and he wasn't about to wait for them any longer. Patience wasn't one of Dean's strongest virtues.

"Level with me, Sammy."

"It's Sam." He sighed and pulled the blankets up as he shivered.

"What'd that spirit have on you?"

"Nothing." He looked away. "Dean, I'm kinda tired."

"No. I'm not letting this drop."

Sam met Dean's eyes for a moment. "Nothing that the demon before didn't do. Add that to the limited sleep I got, and it gave him an edge."

"We're going to have this out, I'm not letting this drop."

Sam nodded slightly. He knew that once Dean got a hold of something, he wouldn't let it drop. Sam just wasn't looking forward to that moment. He didn't want Dean to know that every time he closed his eyes to sleep, he saw Dean crumpling under a gunshot and blood pouring from him, and all of it being Sam's fault. It wasn't only that Dean was killed, but that it was Sam behind the gun and he had no other choice.

"Get some rest, you look like crap." Dean smirked again.

Sam shrugged. "You're one to talk."

Bobby leaned on the doorframe. "Dean, catch a few more hours. I know you could use it."

"You stayed up all night, too." Dean shot back.

"I slept yesterday. Did you?"

Dean couldn't answer because Bobby was right and everyone knew it. He stood and looked at Sam.

"Looks like I'm outnumbered." Dean shrugged and left the room.

Bobby took the chair Dean vacated. He looked at Sam for a few moments. Sam slid down under the blankets and drew his knees up.

"You still cold?"

"A little."

Bobby took Sam's temperature. He met Sam's eyes for a moment. "Almost normal."

Sam nodded as he started to fall asleep again. Bobby let him go and Sam briefly thought about fighting sleep for fear of dreams, but sleep was faster than his fear.

Just as Sam suspected, he ended up back in the basement with Dean. Sam held the gun, Dean stood in front of him. This time, Dean's eyes weren't blacked with demon possession. He was afraid, but trying not to let it show.

"Sammy." He pleaded.

Sam smiled and backed Dean against the wall. Dean held his hands up in surrender.

"We all reach the end of the line, Dean." Sam's smile didn't reach his cold eyes. "Time to get off the train."

Sam slowly raised the gun and pressed it in the middle of Dean's chest.

"Sam, this isn't you." Dean was down to his last options. "I know you, and you wouldn't do this."

"You never knew me as well as you thought you did." Sam cocked the gun. "Never knew what was going on inside my head. Always assumed that I worshipped the ground you walked on."

Sam fired.

"How very wrong you are."

Dean gasped in pain. It wasn't a kill shot, Sam made sure of that. Sam took aim again, over Dean's heart.

"Any last words?"

Dean met Sam's eyes. "This doesn't change a thing. You're still my little brother and I'd still lay my life down for you."

Sam cocked the gun. "Good." He smiled and fired.

Dean slid down the wall. Blood bubbled from his lips and his eyes were dull with death.

Sam woke with his heart pounding, his shirt and hair soaked with sweat. Bobby was at his side, his hand on Sam's shoulder.

"…Sam, you're all right. Sam."

It took him a few seconds to realize that Bobby was trying to calm him down. He stopped fighting against Bobby's hands on his shoulders and fell limp and exhausted into the pillow. Sam shook and felt sick from the images of the dream that refused to leave his thoughts.

"What happened, Sam?"

Sam glanced up at Bobby and took a slow breath. "Just a bad dream."

"About what?"

"Things that shouldn't be in my head." Sam muttered.

Bobby rested his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Go on and tell me."

Sam still shook from the dream and he didn't know if he was ready to think of the details again.

"Sam." Bobby's tone was a little harder.

Sam shrugged. "Just the one where I kill Dean."

Sam looked up and saw Dean in the doorway with his arms across his chest and concern breaking through the neutral expression he tried to have.

Bobby turned and saw Dean. "Thought you were out."

"I woke up." He kept his eyes on his brother. "Heard you yell down the hall."

"It's time to confront this, son." Bobby said as Dean came over and sat at the end of the bed.

Sam looked from his brother to Bobby and back again. He took a slow breath and confessed as much of the dream as he could remember. He hated the attention and the concern, but was too tired to fight against both Dean and Bobby. It was easier to surrender and sometimes that is what had to happen.


End file.
